About a year ago I started helping teach my Sunday School class, which is still craziness to me, because about every other week I’m leading the discussion with older and much wiser people in the room.  But here I am.

So a few weeks ago we were reading about the Samaritan woman in John and specifically how Jesus went out of His way to get to her.  He traveled through an area the Jews would add time and distance to their journey just to avoid; He arrived there when He knew she would be alone at the well; He talked to a woman, which was highly taboo, and an unclean woman at that.

But none of the taboos mattered.  Jesus just wanted to bring one of His children to Him.

John Piper talked about this scene in one of his sermons.  I’ve taken my favorite parts and then emphasized my most favoritest parts and put them here:

“Jesus is the hound of heaven. The Father is seeking (pursuing!) her worship. And He is seeking her through Jesus. This is John’s version of the prodigal son (Luke 15)—only here it is a prodigal daughter. And the Father is seeking her worship. So just like Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners in Luke 15, He is willing to share a drinking cup with a Samaritan adulteress.

“Jesus is pursuing this unacceptable relationship. God is pursuing this woman. He means to have her in heaven. This is graciously relational. Everything is intentional. This is not just happening.  This is design.

“He broke a centuries-old taboo. He sought to be alone in Samaria. He sat on the well. He spoke and did not remain silent. He spoke to a Samaritan. He spoke to a woman. He spoke to an adulteress. He asked for a drink. And the only vessel available was hers…

“…[A]t this moment, in this text, God in Jesus means for you to feel graciously pursued. God is seeking a gracious relationship with you. That’s what this well-scene means.”

Then yesterday I listened to a guy on the radio talk about how God needs nothing from us but yearns for a relationship with us.  And my response is: Why?  How could He daily seek a relationship with such broken beings, knowing that we’ll break His heart, and yet He longs for us anyway?

It is too much.  More goodness than I can comprehend.

Then this morning Ravi Zacharias quoted a bit from The Hound of Heaven wherein a man runs from Jesus but Jesus pursues him through nights and days, over years, allowing the man to taste the empty joys of this world so that the man will know the true joy of life with Him.  Each of us is that man.  Just some of us give up and turn to Him before others.  It is a dense poem, but you should read it.

Because that is Jesus: an ever-chasing emissary of love.  Do you feel Him?  Do you hear His breath behind you, as He chases you and longs to bring you into a relationship with Him?  Because He is.  He’s there.  Just waiting for you to admit that you are blind and beaten down, to accept the treasures He has stored up for you.

So go.  Accept Him.  He is pursuing you.

Little Baby Chickadee is sleeping, which gives me time to post pics from Spring Break and Easter.  I’m working on posting more pictures to this here blog.  Here goes.

And, we did more on Spring Break than just go to Botanica.  But sweet Baby Chickadee deleted most of those pictures when I wasn’t looking.  I think she liked the slurping sound my phone made each time she clicked “delete.”  But I do have these:

Painting at Botanica.

Making friends with the instructor at Botanica.

Gathering clues at Botanica.

Though surrounded by nature, G did not let that affect his choice of subject; no, he drew Transformers.

The last one at Botanica. I promise.

Our unsuccessful geocaching attempt.

My family makes me happy.

In Saturday’s column I wrote about our ten year wedding anniversary because I am so proud of how far we’ve come.

And, like every year, I have to post this e.e. cummings’ poem. I love you, Mr. Fox.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

--e.e. cummings

Hubby is out with his friends, “out” meaning hanging at our friends’ house (sans wives, of course) to watch a new 3-D TV.  The boys get together at night, without spouses or children, and the girls get together during the day, without husbands but WITH children.  And when the boys go out at night without the kids, we still have the kids.  I’m not complaining because the husbands are good about letting us girls go out together at night, but we never do.  The last time was maybe February or March?  So basically never.  Again, I’m not stomping my foot and pouting “That’s not fair,” just saying maybe us girls should change it up sometimes. [edit: Of course, they are at Mr. Y's house while his kids are upstairs, but I'm betting MRS. Y is the one taking care of the kiddos as they wake up and need a drink of water.]

So I made chocolate mug cake, topped it with ice cream and walnuts, and watched “Harold and Maude.”  Now, that movie has been on our Netflix queue for quite a while, probably even before I went out with my girlfriends sans children (Which, now that I think about it, has been well over a year.  One of us keeps having a nursing baby that we have to bring along.), but I’ve never watched it.  I’ve always been too worried about the creepy factor.  Just how far would they push the romance of a young (college age?) boy and a 79-year-old woman?  There were some creepy parts, but I think for the most part it was a sweet movie.  In case you ever decide to watch it, let me know, and I’ll warn you about the parts you should skip through.

Now I’m googling pictures of Alexa Chung because I want to copy her wavy messy hair.  If you look at my most-used board on Pinterest you’ll see lots and lots of bobs, as in haircuts.  Bob haircuts.  And they all look pretty much the same.  I just want my haircut to not look like the hair of a 30-year-old mom who gave up, you know?  So I’ve been staring at people’s hair and trying to decide how to make mine match theirs.  Once, after our weekly date at the bakery (with kids, of course), I came home and cut swoopy bangs to look like Chrissa’s.  But my hair still doesn’t look like hers.  Hers is shinier and try as I might, I cannot get my double-processed, bleached hair to shine like hers.  I’d like to do the blunt bangs of Ellen Barkin or Scarlett Johansson or Katie Holmes, but that’s scary.  Jayme cut them on her long hair and I can’t wait to see them.  Anyway, Alexa Chung has blunt bangs, so I’ve been looking at the pictures that some people creepier than me have put on their blogs that are totally devoted to her.

Every time I hear Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” I think of Estella from Great Expectations and I’m sad for her.  Then I want to read more Dickens.  Have you guys read Great Expectations yet?  Do.  It is such a wonderful book.  If you’re not laughing out loud in the first chapter then put it down, get yourself a cup of coffee and a clear head, then sit down and try it again.  If you’re still not laughing out loud in the first chapter then you’re reading it wrong.  That’s okay, because I did the first time, too.  But Dickens is so incredible at making you laugh while feeling the fear of a six-year-old boy all at once.  Then you grow up with Pip and love him and you love Joe and that whole world and then, 496 pages later it’s suddenly finished and you have to find another book that will be as satisfying to spend your time on.  Probably I should try Oliver Twist or A Christmas Carol but I fear it’s too late in the Christmas season for the latter and I don’t want to be sad with the previous.

Speaking of Joe Gargery, let’s name some of our favorite characters from literature.  Off the top of my head: Joe Gargery from Great Expectations, John Jarndyce from Bleak House (I’ve never read the book but did see the BBC Miniseries with the adorable Carey Mulligan, and I love John Jarndyce)(also, Bleak House is another Dickens novel, so of course I’d love it if I read it), and John Ames from Gilead.  Now, my favorites are stacked with characters from books I’ve just read, but I think it goes along with the fact that I refuse to read anything that’s not encouraging.  I want to have the love and forgiveness these characters have.  Also, I love the narrator in Sonny’s Blues.  Not that he’s as altruistic as the others, but that short story has been one of my favorites since I discovered short stories, so I should probably name him as a favorite character in literature.

Who is your favorite person from the Bible?  You are not allowed to say Jesus.  Mine is Peter because that man was a mess.  He was impulsive and lost his faith as quickly as he got it, spoke out of turn and was heartily reprimanded but still stayed close to Jesus, denied his Lord three times during his precious friend’s greatest need, and yet Jesus built His church upon him.  Through all his weakness he loved Jesus.  Really, really, really loved Him.  I can get behind that.  Paul is too sure of himself; that is nothing like me.  I think if we hung out he would look at me sideways and call me out on my stuff.  Daniel would be interesting.  He was a smarty and I admire his resolve.

[Another edit, for you guys who are up at 11:08 on a Saturday night and reading my blog as quickly as it posts: that guy from Cracked appears to have been totally right about the next Batman.  Behold.]

Okay, I’m going to wrap it up now.  I’m going to re-read Sonny’s Blues and continue listening to the “erin’s faves” playlist on our iTunes.  You guys have a good night.

I finished the second of a few books that Hayley loaned me six months ago and I have learned it is good to borrow books from my sister.  She has great taste.

I’d like to give a review of Gilead but I can’t; I would fumble around and take away from the sublime happiness that it is. All I can say is this: it is the prettiest novel I have ever read.  It is full of beautiful prose and grace and love and it draws you into the quietly marvelous life of an old Christian reverend.  You should read it and then sit in its glow.  If the book were not my sister’s I would loan it to you myself and then make you sit down with me over a cup of coffee to discuss it.

I will, however, leave you with some of its prose.  Really I could have quoted from nearly any page, but these two stood out to me:

One of the [previously written by the protagonist] sermons is on forgiveness.  It is dated June 1947.  I don’t know what the occasion was.  I might have been thinking of the Marshall Plan, I suppose.  I don’t find much in it to regret.  It interprets “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” in light of the Law of Moses on that subject.  That is, the forgiveness of literal debt and the freeing of slaves every seventh year, and then the great restoration of the people to their land, and to themselves if they were in bondage, every fiftieth year.  And it makes the point that, in Scripture, the one sufficient reason for the forgiveness of debt is simply the existence of debt.  And it goes on to compare this to divine grace, and to the Prodigal Son and his restoration to his place in his father’s house, though he neither asks to be restored as son nor even repents of the grief he has caused his father.

I believe it concludes quite effectively.  It says Jesus puts His hearer in the role of the father, of the one who forgives.  Because if we are, so to speak, the debtor (and of course we are that, too), that suggests no graciousness in us.  And grace is the great gift.  So to be forgiven is only half the gift.  The other half is that we also can forgive, restore, and liberate, and therefore we can feel the will of God enacted through us, which is the great restoration of ourselves to ourselves.

And also:

I fell to thinking about the passage in the Institutes where it says the image of the Lord in anyone is much more than reason enough to love him, and that the Lord stands waiting to take our enemies’ sins upon Himself.  So it is a rejection of the reality of grace to hold our enemy at fault.  Those things can only be true.  It seems to me people tend to forget that we are to love our enemies, not to satisfy some standard of righteousness, but because God their Father loves them.

I once had a boss named Gary who told me he didn’t think girls liked music as much as boys liked it.  His girlfriend Ana, for example, wouldn’t seek out CDs to buy but might pick one up if she was already in a store with him.  He, on the other hand, knew everything about the history of Bob Dylan and tried to engage my husband in thoughtful discussions about him, as Dylan was Hubby’s favorite artist for a good many years.

I thought back to sitting in front of my CD player in eighth grade and determinedly learning the lyrics to Blind Melon’s Change and then lying on my bed in a haze of loneliness and what am i doing with myself discussions in my head my freshman year of college as Tori Amos played on repeat.  I sought out music but didn’t know how to tactfully say, “Your generalization does not apply to me,” because no matter how innocuous a reply, I am really good at sounding confrontational.  So I just tilted my head, raised my eyebrows and said, “Huh.”

Maybe six months ago I was listening to Mumford and Sons for the umpteenth time as Daphne and I ran errands while the big kids were in school.  They are probably my favorite band because they are the perfect union of Coldplay and bluegrass and what music could possibly be more beautiful?  Six months ago every song of theirs was new and perfect and I listened to them A LOT a lot, especially when Hubby was not around.  My poor husband forced a smile every time I excitedly said, “Listen to this one!”  Because Hubby and I are not often of one mind as we choose music.

I don’t know how many times I’d listened to it, but all the sudden I realized one of Mumford and Sons’ songs was about a person’s going back to Jesus, a man’s looking at Jesus and saying, “You better walk with me through this if I’m going to come back to You.”  And then Jesus walking with him.

After I realized it I blared that music as sweet Daphne slept in the back seat, then drove around Wichita and Augusta just so I could listen to it over and over.

Praise music has its place in my life but songs like this are what really speak to me.  The purity of admitting that living life as a Christian is difficult and dirty and every day I must again make the decision that yes, I will follow Him.

So I’m sharing the song with you, knowing full well that it might not speak to your soul as it does to mine, but I hope that maybe you’ll appreciate its beauty a little bit, and hopefully you’ll see a little bit of Jesus’ desire to love you and walk with you, no matter how many times you come back to Him.

Roll Away Your Stone

by Mumford and Sons

(Lyrics copies from here.)

(I placed the links.)

(Scroll down to the bottom so you can hear the song while reading the lyrics.)

Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I’m afraid of what I will discover inside

You told me that I would find a hole,
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal,
And all the while my character it steals

Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see

It seems that all my bridges have been burned,
But, you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home
that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive with the restart

Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see

Stars hide your fires,
And these here are my desires
And I will give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found
with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
hide your fires,
these here are my desires
And I will give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found
with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul

But you, you’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine

You are kind, Lord, so good and merciful.

You protect ordinary people, and when I was helpless, You saved me

and treated me so kindly that I don’t need to worry anymore.

Psalm 116:5-7

A few weeks ago I read again the story of the sick woman who was healed from a 12-year disease after merely touching the hem of Jesus’ outer garment (found here and here).  I’d always understood the lesson of that encounter is that it takes very little for Jesus to heal a person. Which is true.

But as I re-read it a few weeks ago for a ladies’ retreat at my church, I thought more about the woman.  That woman was TENACIOUS.  She fought to get through a crowd of people so that she might be healed.  Then she reached out for him and “immediately… she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.”

I want that.  I want her drive to push toward Jesus so that I will be made perfect in Him.  A crowd of people pushed against Him that day and yet it was only her touch that used His power.  I do not want to be a simple bystander in the crowd around Him, casually listening to His words and yet taking none of His power for my own, and I certainly don’t want to be part of the crowd that wound up in the throng without realizing that God Himself was in their midst.

I want to fight to be near Him, I want to fight for the opportunity to use His power as I go out in this world, and then I want share His joy with others.  It’s too good to keep to myself.

In today’s column I celebrate my son.

My sweet little man when he was two days old:

Beautiful little baby.

And my handsome boy at age seven:

He is a joy.

Two weeks ago I completed my first-ever 5k.  Hubby and I are currently on the lookout for more races to run.

The poem that I referenced in my column:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

–e.e. cummings